Family Reunion
by The One and Only Chilibro
Summary: Just a short little story I wrote about the main characters of Call of Duty: Black Ops 2 coming together after the battle had been won, and sharing a moment together. Spoilers, if you haven't completed the actual game's campaign mode yet.


**"Family Reunion"**

**"The Vault"; Washington D.C.**

**David Mason/Alex Mason/Frank Woods**

**DEVGRU/Retired/Retired**

**July 19, 2026**

"Can't believe it's been a year already."

"You kiddin' me? This year's flown by faster than any other year of my life."

"That's because you've been stuck here, old man."

"Hey, it's not _my_fault that I'm not able to go mountain climbing anymore. Hell, even in this wheelchair, I bet I could beat your ass, Alex. Oh, yeah, you too, David. Don't look so smug."

The crisp sound of a soda can being opened pierced the air of the small room, yet another contribution to the retired Sergeant Frank Woods' odd new habit that had sprung up in the past few weeks. David Mason and his father looked on as the nonagenarian downed the Dr. Pepper, audible gulping sounds coming from his throat.

"...Y'know, you're gonna end up killing yourself with those, old man," David commented, raising an eyebrow as the retired sergeant crushed the can in his hand and idly tossed it into a trashcan.

"Yeah? So what. I'm ninety-fuckin'-six now, so it don't matter much. 'Sides, that means the only one responsible for my death is me, not some asshole with a gun. Amen, brother?" Woods looked over at Alex Mason, who simply chuckled and nodded.

"Amen, brother."

"That's what I'm talkin' about." Woods turned his head towards the door of the room. "YO, NURSE BATSHIT! BRING ME ANOTHER SODA!" He paused. "AND NONE OF THAT DIET CRAP, YOU HEAR ME?"

A very faint, very _tired_, "Yes, sir," came from down the hall.

"GOOD!" Woods turned his attention back to his two guests. "So, is this what we're gonna do every year? Celebrate the day that that fuck Menendez got what he deserved?"

"If we can manage it," David replied. "You're pushin' a hundred now, old man. You might not make it to the next reunion."

"Hah! Bullshit. I'll make it to a hundred and twenty and still be goin' strong. And you can count on that."

"I hope so, old man."

A sentimental silence transpired then, only broken by the arrival of "Nurse Batshit," fashionably late and carrying Woods' very much non-diet Dr. Pepper. Instead of chugging the entire thing, the old man just sat there and sipped it while looking at the father and son duo sitting across from him, the former holding a beer, and the latter going totally dry. They were two of the best men that Woods had ever known, and likely ever would know. It wasn't every day you met people like David and Alex Mason - in fact, people like them were usually once in a lifetime opportunities. Woods was thankful that he just happened to be the recipient of one of these opportunities.

"...so, how've things been, Alex? David?" the old soldier asked, shifting in his wheelchair a bit. The two looked at each other briefly, then simultaneously shrugged. "Oh, don't gimme that shit. You two haven't been fightin', have you? Because if you have been, I swear I'm gonna get out of this wheelchair and throttle you both." He smirked as the younger of the two Masons scratched the back of his head, muttering something under his breath. Alex, on the other hand, kept his gaze on his old friend and squadmate.

"Everything's been goin' fine, Frank. There's nothin' you need to worry about," he said, smiling. "David and I've been reconciling...well, as fast as a father and son who've been away from each other for thirty years can."

"Good to fuckin' hear," Woods said, raising the soda can in the air. Alex raised his as well, and together the two veterans downed their beverages, finishing almost simultaneously.

David Mason couldn't help but smile at the burp duet that ensued shortly after. "...You know, for old men, you two sure act like teenagers a lot of the time."

"It's 'cause we never got the chance to _as_ teenagers, David! Gotta get it in while you can," Woods said, the serious look he had on his face only causing the young commander to start laughing. "What the fuck are _you_ laughin' at? Ain't I right, Alex?"

"I think you are, Frank."

"Fuckin' A, brother."

The two "brothers" clinked empty beverage containers, all the while ignoring the now-hysterical laughter issuing from David.

**July 19, 2046**

"NURSE BATSHIT! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE WITH MY SMOKES!"

"Nurse Batshit," actually Marian Lockley, sighed in irritation. Every day, for the past forty-something years, it was the same damn thing. "Nurse Batshit." He sure did love to milk that reference, didn't he?

She sighed again, hoisting the tray holding Frank Woods' smokes, his soda, and his daily medicine a little higher. Then she smiled. _You know, for all of his crassness, you can't help but admire a man like Frank Woods...especially his tenacity to li-_

"NURSE BATSHIT! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

_Oh why can't he just _shut up_ for one minute..._

Marian entered the small room, smiling at the aging Commander Mason who was sitting on the bed that Woods used to occupy. The dodecagenarian now occupied a hospital bed, IV tubes running from what seemed like a million places on his weathered body. "Your smokes, your soda, and your medicine, Mister Woods," she said calmly, placing the items on the tray next to Woods's bed. As she turned to go, as she had done a million times before, she suddenly felt the old man grip her by the arm.

"Yo, Nurse Batshit."

She turned around, looking down at Woods. "Yes, Mister Woods?"

"...Thanks."

She blinked, surprised. "...Um, you're welcome, Mister Woods. Will that be all?"

"Yeah, that'll be all. Now get. Me and this boy've got some talkin' to do."

Marian Lockley nodded, turning around to leave again. She glanced at the framed picture of Alex Mason sitting on the bed beside Commander Mason, then hurried on out, gently closing the door behind her. She barely got halfway down the hall when the familiar, gravelly shouting voice of Frank Woods sounded behind her:

"Told you I'd fuckin' hit a hundred and twenty! And you didn't fuckin' believe me! Hah!"

Marian shook her head, a small smile crossing her face again. No matter how annoying Woods got...no matter how many times he called her "Nurse Batshit"...

...it would always be a joy serving him.

She just hoped it would take twenty _more _years for the soldier to finally realize that "Nurse Batshit" had been giving him diet soda all this time.


End file.
